A Twisted Story
by Random Fandom
Summary: A twist to the HP story. Dumbledore reflects on te deaths of Lily, James, and so many others, but it isn't what you think. Rated PG for a few curses and violence. R&R.


I got this idea out of thin air. I was humming some stupid song, thinkin' about HP, and in it popped. Took me a while to fix the idea, but…Let's see how it will do, shall we? Oh, and I owe a little help to my dear friend, BRIdoubleP. Thanks BRI!!! You got the ideaers to stick.

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Disclaimer: I own the plot, but nothing else. Hey, maybe I will some day write my own books, and then be able to come on and write about characters from that book, and say proudly, "Yes. I own them." ^___^

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"Thank you for coming to see me, Harry. By the way, excellent match." Dumbledore told the young man next to him as they walked towards the desk.

Harry, a thin boy with a lightning shaped scar on his forehead mostly covered by his untidy black hair, followed his mentor. He was still in his ruby Quidditch robes from the match against Ravenclaw, and still in high spirits about the game's outcome. But his happy attitude was fast evaporating. 

The old frail man sat down behind his desk, sighing. Harry quickly took the seat across from Dumbledore.

"Harry, I called you here to tell you something terrible." Dumbledore said heavily.

"What?" Harry asked quickly, feeling that this was not something he wanted to hear.

"It's Hagrid. I'm sure you have noticed his recent absence. Well…"

"What? Is he alright? What's the matter?"

Dumbledore looked at Harry out of those brilliantly blue eyes behind the half moon spectacles. There was pity in his stare. Dumbledore hesitated, then sighed again, and continued.

"While out on a mission for the Order, Hagrid ran into some unpleasant people. They hit up an argument. One of the men pulled out his wand. As you fully know, Hagrid was expelled. He therefore had no wand and no means of defense."

Dumbledore paused. Harry waited with baited breath. His heart seemed to have frozen, along with the rest of him. Harry's hands shook, and he kept one thought in his suddenly cloudy mind: Please don't say it. 

"Harry, Hagrid is dead." Dumbledore said quietly.

It took a minute for this statement to sink in. Once it had, Harry couldn't get it out of his mind. Hagrid, Harry's first ever friend, gone. Suddenly Harry became aware of the tears that ran down his face. He tried to wipe them away, but they kept pouring out. He shook with silent and half-stifled sobs.

Dumbledore reached around and patted Harry softly on the back. 

Harry pulled away and stared at the ceiling, the tears blurring his vision.

"He did it, didn't he? Voldemort, or one of his cronies?" Harry burst out angrily.

Dumbledore nodded very slowly, his eyes never leaving Harry's face.

"Why? Why does Voldemort do these things? Why must he hurt everyone?" 

"Who know's?" Dumbledore sighed, "Almost everything about Voldemort is a mystery."

Harry finally cleared his eyes and his mind enough to see Dumbledore. Dumbledore was sitting back in his chair, as though in an attempt to distance himself from the situation. A few tears had trickled down into his silver beard. 

Harry unexpectedly felt a love for the old man. Everything he had done, or not done, had been to protect Harry. Even through his grief over Hagrid, Harry felt the affection from the elderly chap. He was the father Harry never knew. He was a big part of Harry's "family". The family that Harry had worked so hard to acquire. 

After a moment, Harry turned to the walls, searching for something to attach his mind to. He noticed something odd about them. It wasn't hard to see, and he wondered why he hadn't first noticed it. The walls were bare. Not one picture hung there. Usually portraits of the previous headmasters and headmistresses of Hogwarts hung there. They had disappeared. Harry was just about to ask the headmaster about this, when Dumbledore spoke.

"I must ask you to leave now. I have work to do, and you have a party to return to in the Gryffindor common room. You got your team into the Quidditch championships, and I'm sure they'll want to celebrate." Dumbledore smiled at Harry.

"I don't want-" Harry couldn't get all the words out of his mouth.

"Please Harry. I know you don't much feel like partying right now, but think how disappointed your house will be. We can't have that." 

"No sir. I'll leave then." Harry rose from his seat and darted across the office quickly, all of a sudden wanting to be alone.

"And Harry," Dumbledore stopped him, "Tell no one about Hagrid's death. I will make an announcement myself soon."

"Yes sir." Harry said quietly, "And thank you. For everything." 

Before Dumbledore had a chance to respond to that, Harry had left. He ran down the stairs swiftly, tears stinging behind his eyes again. He tumbled out into the hall, and ran towards the common room. Half way there, he decided against it. Instead Harry ducked into an empty class room. He sat on one of the desks, and let his tears fall. After a few minutes they stopped, and Harry found he could think again. So he did until the rays of light proved that the sun was setting. Then he got up and walked out of the room, closing the door behind him.

Ron found him in one of the corridors. Both he and Hermione had been very worried when Harry hadn't shown up. 

"Harry, where you been? Come on, there's a party for you in the common room. Or at least there was twenty minutes ago when I left. They mighta ended it now." Ron told Harry as they walked up a staircase. 

"I was…" Harry couldn't think of how to answer. Obedient to Dumbledore's wishes, he decided not to tell even Hermione and Ron about Hagrid just yet.

So the two friends walked in silence, Ron throwing Harry nervous glances. They reached the portrait of the Fat Lady sooner than Harry would have liked.

"Jiggery pokery." Ron told the portrait, and she swung open to admit them.

The common room certainly looked as if there had been a party. Streamers and confetti littered the floor as well as the squashy chairs, and a banner had been set up. But now very few people remained. Most had, Harry suspected, gone down to dinner (there was no evidence of food anywhere). 

Hermione was waiting for the two in a corner. Ron walked over and sat down, hoping Harry would as well. But he didn't. The tired, depressed teen instead walked up the staircase to the boys' dormitories. Looking back he saw that Hermione and Ron had quickly put their heads together, no doubt talking about him. 

Harry closed the door behind him, and collapsed on his bed. His body seized up with mental fatigue. He was asleep in ten minutes, having strange mixed dreams about Hagrid and Voldmort.

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(AN: This is right after Harry left the office.)

Dumbledore stared after the boy who had gone running out. His face twitched and split into an unmistakable grin. His eyes held neither pity nor sorrow now. It was hard to tell what thoughts were in his mind.

"So, the boy trusts me. Believes in me. Even _loves_ me." Dumbledore said in a hard voice most unlike his own.

The grin grew wider, and Dumbeldore began to laugh. It was a cold mirthless laugh. Had Harry been in the room at the time, he wouldn't have recognized that laugh as Dumbledore's. Instead Harry may have recognized it as the one that had haunted his dreams for years.

Standing quickly Dumbledore crossed to his cabinet. Here he took out the basin with the strange symbols on it, and the even stranger contents. Setting it down on the desk, Dumbledore took out his wand and prodded the silvery thoughts. 

An image appeared. It was like watching a tape on tv. A box formed in the middle of the bowl, and images started to flash on it. Dumbledore slowed them down and watched, another smile playing on his lips.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Image in the Pensieve.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A tall man dressed in a billowing black cloak walked up to the shabby pub. The lights in this pub were mostly off, and it created an eerie feeling. The man didn't seem to mind.

Inside the pub, strange people were sitting drinking amber colored drinks. They sat on rickety chairs at rickety tables. A puff of smoke hung over head, which had to have come from the numerous amount of smoking pipes in the room.

The man in the black cloak, which was pulled up to hide his face, sat at the bar.

"What'll it be, sir?" asked the man behind the counter.

The man in the black cloak ignored the bartender, and instead focused his attention on one man in the tavern.

This had to be the most peculiar man here. He was quite literally a giant. His whole face was covered in a black beard and a tangle of hair. The man was wearing a huge moleskin overcoat. He was hunched over the table, holding a tankard in one hand. He seemed to be writing something, as a feather quill and ink bottle were sitting on the table. He sat up suddenly, and cocked his head to one side. Whatever he had been writing, he now appeared to be reading.

The man in the black cloak walked over and joined the giant at the table. This certainly surprised the giant, enough to make him reach for a pink umbrella leaning against his chair.

"Good evening, Hagrid. May I ask who you have been writing to?" came the voice from behind the black shawl.

"Eh. Who's that?" Hagrid asked.

The man removed the cloak from his face, revealing tired blue eyes, and a big smile.

"Dumbledore! Great to see yeh! I was writin' to you, matter o' fact." Hagrid said once he had recognized the man. He clapped Dumbledore on the back hard enough to send him into the table a bit.

"Yes, Hagrid. Nice to see you as well." Dumbledore said, rubbing his chest slightly.

Lowering his voice, Hagrid whispered, "I ain't found nuthin' out about that illegal potions dealer yet, sir."

"That is fine, Hagrid. I need you for something else anyways." Dumbledore said, lowering his voice as well.

"What, sir?" Hagrid asked, intrigued.

"Come outside, and I will show you." and Dumbledore rose from his seat, lifting his cloak back over his head.

The re-cloaked man walked out into the night, and crossed the street. He headed into the dense thicket of trees, and stopped, waiting for Hagrid to follow him. He didn't have long to wait. After a minute, Hagrid came through the trees, and ran towards Dumbledore.

'Much like a faithful dog, bounding up to his master.' thought Dumbeldore with a grin.

"What is it, sir? What do yeh want?" Hagrid asked, standing straight and tall.

Dumbledore, however, was leaned against a tree with a lazy look about him. He pulled a long willow wand out of his pocket, and twirled it somewhat. Staring at Hagrid with a strange expression behind his eyes, he whistled. 

A man also in a black cloak came running from behind a tree. He had blonde hair and cold grey eyes. This was all you could see of him, as the rest of his face was covered by a black mask. The man pulled a wand of his own out of his pocket, and faced Hagrid with it.

"What's this? A Death Eater!! Dumbledore, sir, what's goin' on?" Hagrid asked, perplexed.

"I'm afraid, dear Hagrid. That your information is incorrect." Dumbledore yawned, "The man you believe to be the ultimate evil is merely just a henchman. And the man you believe to be your friend, is really," he raised his wand, "your worst nightmare."

Before Hagrid could speak, before he could run, before he could do anything, Dumbledore spoke the words that sealed his death.

"Avada Kedavra." hissed Dumbledore.

With a flash of green light, Hagrid hit the ground. His face was frozen in sheer horror, and a single tear remained on his cheek. 

The Death Eater quickly ran to the body, pointed his wand at it, and mumbled some words under his breath. Hagrid's body disappeared, along with any evidence of his death except for the testimony of the two men. The man turned back to Dumbledore.

"What now, my lord?" he asked.

Dumbledore just stood there and started to laugh.

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The image faded, and Dumbledore chuckled softly.

"Hagrid was too much of an idiot to live, anyways." he said in the hard voice.

Again he prodded the liquid-like material, and again a box like a screen appeared. Images flashed, and Dumbledore began to watch them, a look of pleasure on his face.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Image in the Pensieve~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was a chilly night. The man in the black cloak pulled it tighter around him as he walked down the street.

The street of Godric's Hollow.

Slowly he walked to the door of a white, two-story house. Here was the location of the Potters'. James and Lily, who had thought they could trust Dumbledore. And little Harry, too. The face under the cloak split into a grin.

He knocked. There was a moment's nervous silence, before the door opened a crack. The hazel eye of James was visible through this crack. After a moment, he opened the door fully.

"Dumbledore! What a surprise? I suppose Peter told you we were here? He always manages to mess things up. But I guess this isn't so bad. At least he didn't tell a Death Eater. Come in." James spoke very fast, moving aside so that Dumbledore could come in.

Dumbledore stepped inside, looking around. The walls had many pictures of the Potters', especially young Harry. A few featured James with his childhood friends, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew. One picture was the members of the Order of the Phoenix, all lined up and smiling. They were all Muggle photos, with stationary people. Dumbledore smiled. This house was nice. It would be a pity to see it blown up.

"Lily, come here, dear. It's Dumbledore." James called up the stairs.

"In a minute." Lily yelled down.

"Care to sit down, Dumbledore?" James motioned for Dumbledore to sit in the living room, " I'll get you some tea."

When James came back, Dumbledore had remained standing. He had also drawn his wand. James dropped the cups.

"What the…What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?!" yelled James as Dumbledore pointed his wand at him.

"Goodbye, James." Dumbledore smiled, "Avada Kedavra."

James was dead before he hit the floor, a look of horror upon his face.

It was then that Lily decided to come down. She walked into the front room, her long red hair flying behind her.

"James, dear, I've just put Harry down to bed. I…" then she saw James, "Oh my god!! What happened? Dumbledore, what…"

Dumbledore raised his wand to her. Realizing why her husband was laying on the floor, Lily quickly turned and ran from the room. The jet of green light hit the wall, smashing a picture to the ground.

Lily ran up the steps, thinking only of saving Harry. She pushed open the door of the nursery, dashed in, and shut it quickly behind her, turning the lock. Knowing that would not hold of the mad man, Lily grabbed her son. She started looking for another exit from the room, one that didn't lead into the path of a murderer. But Dumbledore was already unlocking the door.

"Lily. This won't even hurt. I'm sorry to betray you, I really am." Dumbledore said in a falsely reassuring voice.

"Yah right! You don't care!! Why?" she turned towards Dumbledore, tears pouring down her face, "Why did you deceive us? Why did you murder James? Why are you doing this?"

A flash of green light ended her words. Harry fell out of his mother's arms, and landed softly on a pillow. She dropped dead beside him. 

"Because I can." Dumbledore answered the dead woman.

Something didn't quite feel right, as Dumbledore raised his wand to Harry to finish the job. Remembering something he had once heard, the man summoned his second-in-command to the house. The man was dressed in black also. He had a nearly bald head, and red eyes.

"Dumbledore, my lord, what do you wish?" the man asked.

"I need you to kill this boy for me, Tom." answered Dumbledore.

Clearly puzzled over why his master would call him for such am easy job, Tom Riddle, a.k.a. Voldmort, pulled out his wand. He closed his eyes, and pointed the yew wand at the young boy.

A flash of green light issued out of Voldemort's wand, and headed for Harry. But instead of knocking the boy dead, it bounced back and hit it's originator. Voldmort screamed in utter pain. A huge explosion occurred. The house and everything in it was destroyed. Everything except for Dumbledore and Harry.

"Damn." 

Dumbledore Disapparated. 

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"I never thought I'd see the day when Tom came back to fight alongside me once again. But, what can I say? I'm touched." Dumbledore smirked, setting the Pensieve back on it's shelf. Feeling tired, Dumbledore watched the sun sink through his window. 

A small laugh pushed past his lips as Dumbledore thought of how many people he had brought to death. And the numbers were always growing. 

Looking down, Dumbledore saw a few teens running around outside. They were laughing, and sending enchanted dirt clods flying at each other. As he watched, one kid was hit in the eye. Dumbledore smiled again.

All the people who believed he was an honest good-hearted man were wrong. Those kids believed, and some day it would cost them. Harry believed. It would cost him his life and the lives of his loved ones. Lily and James and Hagrid had believed, and it had already cost them.

Some day…

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Teehee. That's the first HP fic I've written without Lupin being the star. In fact, he isn't even in it, unless you count that picture mention. 

Did you catch who the Death Eater was with Dumbledore when he murdered Hagrid? That was accidental.

Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed it. If you did, please R&R. Much appreciated. Peace.


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